


Ponder

by thasmins



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, angst?????? maybe, like at the end, my take on her falling lol, of course bill has to be the one who mentions her, of course i mention marina and the diamonds, ok there's a bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:03:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13412829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thasmins/pseuds/thasmins
Summary: The Doctor thinks.





	Ponder

**Author's Note:**

> this is just my take on 13's post-regeneration moment lol

It has only been a few moments into this regeneration when the TARDIS legitimately spat her out. Granted, the sentient time machine was scarred during her process, but never has she treated the Doctor in such a manner post-regeneration.

Must be the hair. She thinks it's fine – a bit floofy caramel blonde and not to mention, silky soft(!) – but the TARDIS doesn't think on the same page.

Ugh, brilliant. _Oh_. Brilliant? Brilliant! The word carries such positive toning and has a rich timbre when rolled off her tongue. It's so bloody _brilliant!_

But really. She's plummeting rapidly to Earth, and she imagines it's not going to be a pretty site (or a brilliant one). A charred mess of whatever's left of her body. The impact creating a humungous crater. Lots of people screaming and crying in agony. Fear and anxiety spreading throughout the population.

Unless, of course, she ends up in a desert or mountain or somewhere not densely populated.

Would her leftover regeneration energy help? Maybe to soften the blow? She has never had a situation like this before, falling from the TARDIS mid-flight and barely touching the farthest layer of Earth's atmosphere. Her last self wanted to try again, but bloody hell, would it kill to start when on ground?

No use to get angered by that daft old man now, he's gone off with the others. Probably laughing his arse off, or maybe just tsk-ing in disappointment. Somehow, it's probably both. And now she understands Clara and Bill's annoyed and pissed looks towards him.

At least he's still cheering by the fact she's finally a woman. Honestly, it was about time!

(Ugh, she could still feel residual jealousy from Twelve when he realised that The Master had that privileged chance before him.)

A jet zips by, leaving behind white, wispy streams of hot, humid exhaust. Bloody hell, she's really going to crash. Flailing won't help her panicked state of mind. And she really can't if she could. The fear in her is an everlasting flame engulfing her body so overwhelmingly she's paralysed by its effect.

Closing her eyes, she lets herself descend into the blue planet, bracing for what's to come.

* * *

 The sky, dark with millions of twinkling, tiny lights shining through lightyears.

It's the sight she sees when her eyes flutter open. Earth's sky at night, it's a beautiful sight pleasing to her eyes. A smile curves on her lips.

She survives after all.

Wisps of golden light – regeneration energy – seep through her hands, dispersing wherever with a sizzling sound like something burned out of some sorts. It's like the jet's streams – exhaust left from the usage.

When she attempts to sit up, a spark of hot pain shoots up through her back, and she lets out a roaring cry of agony. She rests her head on the floral earth again, realising that she'll be around here for a while longer.

The throbbing of her entire body is unbearable, but she has to make do with it. Flames could die out and so can this. Tears secrete from her eyes as a natural response to the ugly and agonising torment. She doesn't croak out any more sounds with her new voice, afraid it'll worsen the situation at hand. Allowing herself just to lay down for once is something of a rarity, she thinks. Everyone has gotten that luxury, the Doctor should too.

Closing her eyes would mean to fall asleep, vulnerable and exposed for anyone or anything to catch, or kill. She's not flattering herself, no, she likes the comfort of having self-defence at her side. She has Bill to thank for that – her independency and confidence proved by the amount of effort put into those self-defence programs.

Her last incarnation got to witness the awe-striking woman fluently executing a perfect roundhouse kick at a Zygon posing as celebrity of some sort. Remembering the name of the stolen identity...Marina...and the Diamonds, she thinks?

“Nobody gets to mess with my bloody half-Greek, half-Welsh, feminist queen, arse!” her pupil had shouted furiously, rendering the alien resorting to fleeing.

She really doesn't understand early 21st century's terminology and culture.

Oh.

There is that other thought. She's on her own again, like she had been since the start. She can find someone again, of course. To share adventures with them is a rush of excitement dragging her along in the ride. Despite the frequent hundred-year gaps between seeing her wonderful companions, she wouldn't trade them for anything else.

They do leave: some on accord, some because of dire situations, some snatched away from death. They do come back as echoes of the past. It should drive her mad, but she won't let it. She can't let it. They are the motivation pushing her to do decisions and feats that make the universe kinder.

Because the universe is not a fairytale, no. It fails to be that. That's where she comes in.

Oh, Doctor. What is she going to do now?


End file.
